


SurrealNatural

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Prompt Fic, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vampire Hunters, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: Surreal is taking care of another routine monster hunt at her workplace when she's rudely interrupted by one of her brothers.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	SurrealNatural

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanDMonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanDMonic/gifts).



> This fic was prompted by a post by Dean D'Monic on Facebook. To the wearer of many skins: thank you for the inspiration and for continuing to blow our minds with your amazing talent.

It was tricky business hunting vampires at one’s own place of employment. There was always the possibility of word getting around the monster campfire that so-and-so works at such-and-such, putting a hunter in even more danger than usual. It was tricky, but not impossible.

The dimmed lighting at the Blue Angel Gentlemen's Club helped a considerable amount.

Shaded areas were an asset for figuring out which guests to keep an eye on. Oddly enough, the monsters just passing through never seemed to catch on. Likely because Surreal did away with them too quickly for one to escape and warn the others. So she found a system and stuck with it. Hey, it’s not crazy if it works.

Surreal spotted another one in the middle of her last dance of the night. The subject in question was giving off all the usual signs. She was new, she headed straight for a dark corner, and she didn’t seem the least bit interested in all the club had to offer. She hadn’t even ordered a drink. All this chick did was sit there and stare — at the guests, not the dancers — like a weirdo.

That was saying a lot, for the amount of weird Surreal saw on a daily basis.

Another edge Surreal had over monsters who reared their ugly head at her job was that nobody ever suspected an employee to be the one they needed to worry about. As if rando hunters just camped out at clubs waiting for the moment to strike. She had seen all sorts — wraiths, werewolves, even a Djinn or two — and the level of anticipation they held for a hunter in combat boots and a canvas jacket to jump them was unreal, if not a bit predictable.

A blonde ducking under a hoodie on her way out the back door? The bastards never saw her coming. And they definitely didn’t expect an entire fucking machete to be concealable under said hoodie. 

The dumpster between the club and the next building over was where the monster and victim would always end up. It was away from prying eyes and not too far away, allowing for minimal screaming for help. 

Sure enough, there the vamp was, hand clamped over one of the regular’s mouth with her razor-sharp teeth beginning to emerge. The man’s screams were muffled but it didn’t stop him from trying, the poor bastard. Maybe after this he’d lay off on harassing the girls to participate in some off-the-menu activities.

“Hey!” Surreal shouted from a few yards away, fingers wrapped around the machete and ready to slip out from under concealment.

The vamp looked up, shocked and perturbed at the interruption. Before Surreal could get close enough, a blade from the other side of the dumpster sliced cleanly through the monster’s neck, sending the head rolling off her shoulders and the rest of the body slumping to the ground.

The regular’s face went white as he screamed at the gruesome sight.

“T’s alright, champ,” a masculine voice said in the dark. “You’re not a midnight snack tonight after all. Congratulations.”

Surreal rolled her eyes so far she might’ve pulled a muscle.  _ Really?  _ What was  _ he _ doing here?

With a high-pitched whine the man lost consciousness, collapsing to reveal the person who dealt the killing blow — the man, the myth, the legend — the person who tied her loose teeth to a door before slamming it shut when they were little.

“Sorry,” Surreal greeted, machete in hand, “did I interrupt a hunt you were perfectly capable of finishing on your own?”

Dean’s face lit up. He rushed forward, enveloping her in a bear hug. “What did dad say about hunting on your own?”

She was squished, but she still managed to reply. “What did dad say about kissing dudes?”

“Touche,” came the reply before he finally broke the embrace. “Didn’t know you still worked here. I just go where Sam’s research sends me, the nerd.”

“Tell him I said ‘hi, buttface’.” The nostalgia was strong remembering each other’s degrading nicknames for each other, and it made her smile. But there wasn’t much time for that. The alley wasn’t the friendliest place, monsters or not, and the would-be victim was beginning to stir.

“So,” she continued, mind coming back to the present, “you got ‘em both, huh?”

Dean’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Both…?”

Surreal opened her mouth to reply, when a burly, fanged figure behind Dean eased into sight from deep in the shadows. He looked at Dean’s throat with delight, nostrils flaring from the smell of blood pumping through his arteries.

“Code: Last Crusade,” Surreal blurted.

In a practiced, immediate response, Dean bent over, head ducking down with his back parallel to the ground. Surreal leaped into the air and twisted onto her back, knees to chest as she slid down Dean’s back and swung her blade across the vamp’s neck in a single fluid movement.

Her machete beheaded the monster, making a sick, fleshy noise as she continued rolling backwards, extending her legs to land perfectly on her feet. Dean stood up straight, glancing at the second dead vamp before twisting around with a proud smile.

“They always show up in twos,” she said on an exhale.

Dean held up placating palms. “Alright, clearly you’ve got it handled. I’ll tell Sam to take the employees and guests of the Blue Angel off our very, very long list of ‘pathetic sons of bitches to save’.”

Surreal gave a curt nod and pursed her lips. “That’s the spirit.”

Dean pulled a rag out of his pocket and began wiping down his blade. “You could always, y’know… come hunt with us.”

Surreal choked on a laugh. 

“The family business,” Dean reminded her.

“I can’t pay my landlord in vamp heads.”

Dean gave a pointed look, like he actually had an answer to that this time.

“I kinda like it here,” Surreal said, glancing back at the club’s backdoor. She looked down at the man beginning to wake up. “Some of the guests are asshats, but overall it’s not a bad gig. And I’ve saved a lot of people.”

Nodding in acceptance, Dean smiled. “Yeah well, come visit the bunker some time. It’s pretty badass.”

“I’ll think about it,” she replied, turning to leave. Although intrigued, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of a promise like that. Not after interrupting her hunt and acting all smug about it. But yeah, she’d probably turn up one of these days.

  
  



End file.
